


Until He Breaks

by FishPrincess



Series: HSWC 2014 Bonus Round 2 [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Implied Attempted Suicide, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishPrincess/pseuds/FishPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>俺 [ore] (Japanese): An informal personal pronoun, used in place of "I". Disrespectful when used with people who aren't close friends. An exclusively male pronoun; its use by women is highly unusual and seen as extremely tomboyish. For HSWC Bonus Round 2. A response to a prompt by Dreamwidth user the_rezi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until He Breaks

She uses all of her strength, every day, to make his life hell. Today is no different.

When she wakes up, collapsed on the floor with her hair undone and her hair askew, she only feels a burning rage. Anger for her life, her sentence, and the cue-ball headed man that claims to raise her. Dried blood lines her green walls from the effort she put into slamming her fists against them when he took away the chairs to her small tea table. She made sure to smear the results of her injuries across the wall as much as she could, drawing pictures of herself with newly sprouted wings. Her walls became a collection of artistic pieces, the only way she could express herself. In red are crudely drawn representations of her caretaker lying dead and decapitated from the day before.

He would force her to clean the walls every day, but she had a secret collection of them beneath her bed for some time. With her bed in shambles from another incident, he soon found her hidden illustrations and made her clean those, too.

She knows nothing else but this mansion, the cause of her imprisoned suffering. She knows not of other trolls, of the words he speaks to her, or what happiness feels like. There is no good here, no improvements, only an incessant desire to escape. There are books in her room, but she has never been taught how to read. As a wiggler, he spoke to her in long drawn out phrases that made it impossible for her to catch on to any particular phrases.

There were times when he had company in the form of Derse carapaces, and their phrases were sort and laced with an anger that resembled her own, so she learned to pick them up and repeat them along with the clatter that she made within the confinement of her room.

Today, she drinks from the carapacians well of inspiration and starts swinging. He yells at her with unintelligible words, and she screams at the top of her lungs.

“FUCK YOU.”

“HATE YOU.”

“SUCK BULGE.”

This is her rebellion, her revolt. A wigglerhood stolen, she uses every bit to fuel her. These words make her feel stronger than helpless. They are words she can speak, she can whisper, she can yell, and she can sing. Far too many times has she tried escaping from her life after putting together the fatality of the electrical outlets. He hates it, and it gives her a sense of accomplishment when she drives him mad enough to have him smack her with a broom or take away her ability to breathe.

Today, she will continue until he breaks.

Today and every day.


End file.
